When I was younger I had stereotypical notions of Texas being the most racist state in America. The Deep South still has a terrible reputation but more recent research I’ve done on America’s racial climate brought Massachusetts, and Boston in particular, to the forefront. As I was looking through an article detailing Boston athletes’ comments on Boston’s racism, I came across this comment:
I recently started working on part II of Alive, which continues my story of werewolves and racism. The first one followed my black protagonist, Mason, adapting to his new abilities and breaking off from a radical sect that wanted to use their power to wage war against the people that oppress them. The second part will lead to all out war between Mason and the radical sect, but also has more of a focus on Mason’s attempts to oversee the implementation of new policies that will empower his people. A key theme of the second book is that laws are not enough to change how people think, which reminded me of an oft-cited mantra.
“It’s (current year)”. This can be used by conservatives to shut down the talk of discrimination or by well-meaning liberals who think that the passage of time is enough to ensure equality. Whatever side it comes from, the sentence demonstrates a child-like naivete of how the world works.
When slavery was abolished, racism persisted. When Jim Crow was abolished, racism persisted. I wonder if people used to say “It’s 1970”. Laws may ban people from certain actions, or maybe even certain words, but laws can’t change what is in their minds. If someone holds the racial mindset of the 1950s near and dear to their heart, they will teach those values to their kids, and so on. Time itself is not a cure for racism. This is perfectly demonstrated by the current climate of right-wing backlash, where pretty much any comment or act that doesn’t endorse bigotry is labelled as “political correctness” or the work of “social justice warriors”. People are upset that they, and society as a whole, are being called out for bigotry now more than ever. Instead of adapting to changing times, it is easier to reminisce of times when you could say whatever you wanted without worrying about consequences or criticism. At worst, these people support bigotry. At best, they enable it. Yes, sometimes people do cry racism, misogny etc. where it does not exist, but I don’t believe that these instances account for the majority. I do believe that these instances get lumped in with all of the legimate ones, especially by people whose views are already intolerant. They get a smokescreen for hiding bigotry: “I’m not racist. I just hate it when these social justice warriors get offended by everything.”
I want to know what these people consider “everything”. Is it something as simple as Madonna referring to her son as “dis nigga” or is it a case where another unarmed black man got killed?
In yesterday’s post I discussed one of the experiences that cemented my understanding of the persisting disdain for interracial couplings. I was initially tempted to combine this piece into yesterday’s, but I was apprehensive due to the length of the article. I didn’t want to have to condense these thoughts, since the experiences I’ll lay out in this article are a microcosm of frequent and subtle instances of racism in dating.
I am not saying people have an obligation to date someone of a different race. If two people like each other, and happen to be of the same race, there is nothing racist about that. If one person goes through life, rejecting people due to their skin colour, there is something wrong with that. I have already discussed all the excuses that abound for sticking to one’s race when it comes to dating or sex, including the argument for a “natural preference”, so read those first if your head is already teaming with rebuttals. The supposed hardwiring we have for what we view as physically attractive, can all be traced to accumulated external stimuli, whether it is the advice of our parents or the images of beauty we consume in the media.
There are also cases of people who don’t date their own kind at all, or only date people of a certain shade within their own group. Some people may try to argue that this undermines the point I am making about dating and racism. After all, how can someone be racist to themselves? Someone with a rudimentary understanding of racism would pat themselves on the back for bringing this point up, thinking they’ve thrown a conundrum my way. People can develop feelings of inferiority, or even self-hate due to their own race. This can lead them to take measures to ‘evelate themselves’ by having lighter-skinned children or bleaching their skin.
As I also mentioned in yesterday’s post there are examples of interracial couples and we probably all know some. However, I am sure facts will support my assertion that they comprise a small minority of the world’s population, and the population of any given city. Since most of my friends are white, and most of their friends are white, I have only been with white girls so far. You might think I have no reason to be skeptical of racial progress but these experiences are tainted by a wider net of racism. All names used below are pseudonyms.
I met a girl named Sarah in Ottawa, and she later wanted to get into a relationship with me. Sometime after we met I found out that she doesn’t normally like black guys. Sarah was actually more interested in someone else at the house party we went to, but since he turned her down she just settled for me. Yes, a girl can also end up settling for some other guy of the same race too. However, if the girl has specifically stated that she doesn’t like black guys then there is obviously a racial component at play here. In this case, I was second fiddle, but I was also a “credit to my kind.” It’s not the first time I’ve had someone express that I am good looking “for a black guy” or that they normally think black people are unattractive, but find me good looking. Should I take this as a compliment? No, because that would ignore the negative part of that statement: “You people are normally ugly.”
In the years since this incident I have tried online dating, but the online realm brings up a crucial disadvantage. In the previous incident, Sarah pushed aside some of her ingrained prejudice because she was forced to get to know me. We were in a small social circle where mutual friends introduced us and we bonded through the same activities. If I was just another face on tinder, she probably would have swiped left quickly, regardless of how good my pictures, bio etc. were. Maybe my outlying good looks would have made her swipe right, but then I’d be competing with twenty other guys messaging her that day. Odds are one of the other guys would be a white guy who she considered better looking. I would have the same disadvantage if I was one amongst ten other guys in her college class. An attempt to talk to her there would probably be met with a luke warm reception.
The contrast between what happened at the house party, and what could have happened if Sarah and I came across each other in another setting emphasized how big a role race plays in someone’s selection. In another setting, Sarah wouldn’t have had as much impetus to get to know me. She would see my colour regardless of the setting, which isn’t racist in itself. However, Sarah would only pay attention to my skin colour online. At the house party she also paid attention to my other traits. If racial preferences truly are something hardwired into our systems, like some people claim, then one night of talking shouldn’t have been able to make Sarah willing to hook up with me and even try to pursue a relationship.
Another fallacy, one which I used to fall victim to as well, is the belief that dating someone of a different race means that you are open to dating someone of any race. As an example, my Indian friend Nathan once dated a white girl who lived on the same floor of his building. She was very attractive and I was happy for him, and couldn’t help but wish that I lived in that building too. It turns out that a serendipitious meeting wouldn’t have changed anything for me. Nathan revealed that Emma doesn’t like black guys. However, I was fortunate enough to be considered a credit to my kind again. Like Sarah, I think Emma’s perception of me was influenced by the time she spent hanging out with me. I wasn’t just another face on a dating profile or yet another guy hitting on her in class or at the bar. Emma’s perception of me also brings up the question of why she was open to dating an Indian guy, but not a black one. Maybe she wasn’t really open to Indian guys either, but her proximity to Nathan led her to get to know him better? Or maybe there’s another explanation.
Eduardo Bonilla-Silva’s Racism Without Racists actually explores this phenomenon in more depth. Emma appears to suffer from the “model minority” mindset. Middle Eastern and South Asian minorities have positive stereotypes associated with them e.g intelligent, hard-working. Meanwhile black people have enduring stereotypes of violence, laziness and stupidity. The stereotype of physical prowess isn’t enough to undo the more corrosive, threatening stereotypes. Of course, racial ignorance can also lead to negative stereotypes about South Asians and Middle Eastern people. Bonilla-Silva also retorts that these negative stereotypes may be easier to overcome for these groups due to their positive ones. The Japanese were once held in internment camps, but they are comfortably among the model minority caste now. Likewise, ignorant stereotypes concerning terrorism or docility may dissipate or be overpowered by the positive stereotypes. Some people may also be more attracted to the model minorities since they are also stereotypically envisioned as being lighter-skinned.
Throughout my life, my skin colour has been enough to make people decide I’m unattractive, hold their purses tighter, call security on me and many more. In some ways dating security is the least of my worries. In other ways it is one of my most pressing. Many people may read about some of the racism I’ve experienced, and express disapproval with the treatment. Then those same people would still wish to stick to their own race for dating. Dating discrimination warrants mentioning because it is one of the most prevalent forms of discrimination. It is also one of the forms that is defended most vehemently, even by people who are otherwise tolerant and open-minded.
Sometimes this sentence is rephrased as “I don’t date black guys” or “I’m not attracted to black guys”. Either way it is something I always go back to since it is a sentence I am familar with and provides the most irrefutable proof that plenty of people are not truly “colour-blind” in this day and age. There are a wide range of excuses used to defend racial preferences in dating, with the preservation or commonality of culture being one of the most common. This argument is still undercut by the fact that acknowledging this reason still makes it clear people aren’t colour blind. Some people argue that we are simply born liking what we like, and we can’t control it, therefore there is nothing wrong with their preferences. Of course, what we view as attractive is out of our control in some ways. However, I don’t believe we are simply born with our preferences for dating or sex programmed.
Like I discussed in a previous article, various factors such as the images of beauty we consume in the media and coaching from parents, friends etc. all affect what we view as attractive. For anyone who says interracial dating is unnatural, I bet you can find friends or relatives who put that idea in their mind from a young age. Some people also argue that an interracial child ends up being one without a clear identity. To these people, I say that I am glad they are not the parents of mixed children. Otherwise they would have their children grow up with an inferiority complex. My little sister is mixed and my mother ensures that she is raised with a strong sense of identity and love. Obviously raising a mixed child can bring up some concerns or issues that may not be present for other children. However, the fact that something may be a little more difficult does not mean it must always be avoided. This excuse always struck me as an disingenous copout by people who’ve never even considered dating outside of their own race.
Another excuse that reveals how racism can impact reasoning skills, is the excuse that discriminating on the basis of race is no different that discriminating due to weight, hair colour, musculature etc. If we are discussing racism, emphasis on the first syllable, then distinctions based on things aside from race don’t come into play. However, someone’s other preferences can also help to reveal ingrained prejudices. Girls who say they like “hockey players” can send a clear sign that there is a good chance they only go for white guys (93% according to a 2011 survey).
When I arrived at University of Ottawa in 2009 I had yet to confront the reality of dating discrimination. I could remember girls of different races who had crushes on me at one point, and vice versa. I was already aware of racism, but for some reason I was relatively naive when it came to this specific facet of it. I knew about people in my high school who only dated within their race, but I viewed them as outliers. From what I have seen since, it appears that they are the norm. Of course I also know many interracial couples and/or people who are open to dating outside their race, and I am sure any reader does as well. However, if we measure the sum total of all these open-minded people, I am sure they still constitute a minority of the world’s population.
Aside from being watched while I shop, the lovely Quebec district of Hull also gave me my first real dose of dating/sex discrimination. Since the legal drinking age in Quebec is 18, instead of 19 like Ontario, my friends and I would often head there when we partied. I forget exactly where we were this night. I know that it was either a club named lebop or one nearby, it is part of a small strip we frequented in first year. The club was set up with a dance floor to the right as you walk in. After drinking with my friends for a while I decided to approach a girl standing by one of the tables flanking the dance floor. Now, I understand that rejection in itself is not always an indicator of racism. Although it is soothing to my ego to think that I have only been rejected due to racism, I know other factors can come into play. I don’t reflect on this incident simply due to the rejection itself. It stands out in my mind due to the way the woman reacted.
At first, there didn’t appear to be any hostility. The girl was with some of her friends, male and female, but appeared to be single. I began talking to her, while her friends watched. Before racist assumptions come into play, I wasn’t wearing any baggy clothes, hoodies, bandana, cap, etc. I had on blue fitted jeans, a blue Tommy Hilfiger sweater and black dress shoes. I approached the girl straight on, making eye contact and ensuring that she saw me coming. I didn’t sneak up behind her and I never put my hands on her. She stood on one end of the table and I stood on the other.
The conversation seemed to be going well for a bit, as we talked about where we were from, where we went to school etc. After a few minutes I could tell that the girl didn’t seem that interested, at best she was just being polite. I said goodbye and walked away, thinking that would be the end of that encounter. A few minutes later I meet up with my friends again and a bouncer confronts me, telling me it’s “time to go”.
I asked why and he said I was talking to too many girls. This night is one that is burned in my brain pretty vividly so I can remember that I talked to less than five girls that night (outside of my group). They were all rude with their rejections, including one putting her hand in my face, but I didn’t confront them about that. When I got rejected I simply moved on.
My friends left with me, and I still remember how angry I was that you could simply get kicked out for talking to girls in a club. It was one of my girl friends that told me the real reason I got kicked out. She overheard the girl I spoke to talking to the bouncer, saying that she “feared for her life” due to her encounter with me. Go back and read the paragraph on what I was wearing and how I introduced myself. Does anything in that paragraph come across as threatening in anyway? Threatening enough to say you fear for you life? As always, I initially tried to remove race from the equation. There have been times when I was the guy who screamed racism at everything, and I wanted to make sure this wasn’t such a moment. I went over how I approached, how I was dressed, what I said etc. I could not think of anything that would warrant the girl’s reaction. Unless she was simply afraid of me due to my skin colour. Yes, I’m tall as well. Maybe you’ll argue that she was scared due to that. However, would she have been as scared if a white guy my size approached her the same way I did, dressed as I was, speaking like I was? I don’t think so.
After the SAQ incidents I was convinced that Hull, and perhaps Gatineau, just had a problem with racism far more corrosive than what I previously witnessed in Canada. This suspicion was confirmed at a house party a few years ago, where I met someone else who had a similiar experience from the same clubbing district in Hull. He recounted the story of heading to one of the bars with his rugby team, who were all dressed casually. He and the other white members of the team were let in, but the bouncer advised the only black member that his dress didn’t permit him to enter. When my friend advised the bouncer that the other teammates were all dressed similarly, the bouncer only responded “We’ve had a lot of stabbings in the area.”
One year ago my friends and I were driving to La Pataterie Hulloise. On the way, we were stuck in a stretch of traffic and one of my friends pulled out a board game. We began playing in the back seat, but my attention waned as I saw the cop car beside us. The cop in the passenger side focused on me, before his eyes also darted to my Indian friend driving. As far as I know, playing board games in the back seat of a car isn’t illegal and the cop didn’t bring this up when he pulled us over. To be fair, I did have my seat belt unbuckled as the middle passenger. The cop mentioned this when he pulled me over, but didn’t mention it as his reason for pulling us over. He and his partner simply took our Ids and left us waiting for fifteen minutes. When he returned he tried to hassle my friend about the fact that the car is not registered in his name, but like many young drivers it is registered in his dad’s name. According to my friend, the cops asked him random questions about his dad’s businesses, including some odd queries about his dad having a home for orphans. No, I’m not making this up.
Since my experiences in Hull were one string of racism after another, I think I ended up focusing on the district too much when I thought of issues like racial discrimination. It made me blind to all the more subtle cues around me, which I’ll discuss in tomorrow’s piece.
In this brave new era people who discuss racism are viewed as society’s greatest dividers and agitators. Meanwhile, the people who’s lives are structured around racist assumptions and beliefs use the excuse of “colour-blindness” to shut down any discussion of racism. I have discussed this in my previous piece, which Talib Kweli was gracious enough to read and retweet. Since that piece discussed my current passion for the topic of race, I wanted to use this piece to discuss the reason I joined the discussion.
Until I was about thirteen, my view of the world was similiar to most conservatives. I thought racism was something historic, with only a few outliers remaining, such as the Klu Klux Klan and Neo-Nazis. Elementary and high school taught me about the Trans-Atlantic slave trade and Jim Crow, but never taught me about the more subtle forms of racism that are far more prevalent. My lessons on stereotyping and racial profiling were all extra-curricular ones until University. My experiences fortunately did not subject me to violence, but I don’t think they should be ignored simply because they didn’t result in violence or death. No matter what justifications people will want to use, my experiences show that people are not as “colour-blind” as they claim.
When I was thirteen my stepdad (at the time) and my mom announced that they were moving to England due to a work transfer. While they sorted out the move, I lived in Jamaica for one year with my uncle.
I think my time in Jamaica actually offered the most stark contrast possible to the experiences I would have in England. I moved from a country that was over 90% black to one that was less than 5% black. Of course, Jamaica has its own issues of discrimination, with colourism becoming a growing phenomenon, which is also leading to more skin bleaching as people try to lighten their skin to something they view as more beautiful.
However, when I was in Jamaica, I definitely didn’t receive the same level of scrunity for my skin colour as I did in London. At thirteen, I wasn’t as self-conscious as I am now. I initially ignored people staring, people crossing the street or holding their purses tighter when they saw me. London has a decent black population, but the area I was living in was apparently one where they weren’t as welcome. Some people will be quick to say that this is an issue of class then, not race. However, I retort that this is an issue of race and class intersecting. What I experienced would not have happened to a white thirteen year old living in London.
I was one of the few black people at the first school I went to in England, and I think this also facilitated my release from blissful ignorance. Of course, being one of the few black people did not guarantee racism. I didn’t mind that people noticed I was black. I was never conservative enough to view their ability to see me as a mark of discrimination. Contrary to conservative doctrine, seeing someone’s colour isn’t racist. The issue is how you treat them due to their skin colour. I never felt discriminated against at the school like I did on the streets or in my own apartment. The issue at school was a more harmless form of ignorance, that nevertheless made me realize how different my race made me. As mentioned before, my mother didn’t want me growing my hair long, and this is a habit that has stuck with me. However, I would usually grow my hair out for a few weeks before getting it cut. I’d have a nest of curly hair less than an inch long on my head, which still managed to fascinate some of my classmates. I can remember plenty of them running their hands through it.
Yes, London may be a relatively diverse city but these kids didn’t grow up in that London. Southbank International School was a home for the children of wealthy Brits and expats, many of which apparently didn’t mingle that much with people of other races. There was even a rumour that I was related to the only other black person at the school, a girl a few grades older than me. This girl and I never spoke. I didn’t even know her name. It seems like people assumed we were related simply because our skin was the same tone. At the time, I didn’t consider this a subtle manifestation of racial ignorance. Although I realized how ignorant the assumption was, I found amusement in it. I didn’t find amusement in what greeted me outside the school.
I loved the gated complex we lived in, courtesy of my step-dad’s company. It was amazing seeing so many high end cars in the parking lot, everything from Aston Martins to Maseratis. The building’s staff were very familiar with my parents, and knew me well. As I look back on the experience, I realize how warm and welcoming they were to us. While I revelled in this new environment, certain things started to annoy me after a while.
“Do you live here?”
This was a question I received from other residents. This question was never an attempt to start a conversation. It wasn’t followed by a request for directions, an introduction or any form of small talk. Usually the only response I received was a stare or maybe “Just checking.” I answered this question with a smile on my face the first few times, not thinking that my skin colour could make someone question my presence. Sometimes I may have walked through the gate after someone else, and I thought it was a fair question since I didn’t enter the security code myself. Other times, I thought that maybe my casual dress begged the question. However, some of the residents asking me were also dressed casually. Before racist assumptions come into play, I have never been one to wear excessive jewellery or baggy pants hanging low. I don’t wear hoodies often either.
Sometimes I was dressed more formally than the residents interrogating me. The uniform for one of the schools I went to was a suit, complete with a green blazer. This uniform was nothing like the uniform worn by the staff and also should have signified that I wasn’t a homeless person wandering into the building. Additionally, I was often clean cut and sported no facial hair at the time (mother’s orders). As I look back on my justifications for the questioning, I wonder what the residents thought I planned to do if I didn’t live there. Did they think I was planning to sneak past the security at the front desk and ransack as many apartments as I could find?
These experiences continued to pile up, and after a while, I could not help but ask why I kept getting asked this question. The answer didn’t really come to me until a flight back to Canada during one of my school breaks. My stepdad and I had first class seats and while I enjoyed the privileges that came with it, the experience was somewhat overshadowed by an encounter with a flight attendant. I went to use the first class bathroom, and she stepped in front of me and pointed to the bathroom in coach.
I was confused, but didn’t think to argue. I had to pass my stepdad to reach coach, and he stopped me to ask where I was going. When I explained that I couldn’t use that bathroom, he assured me I could and told me to walk back towards the front. When I did, the same flight attendant stopped me and pointed to coach again. My stepdad saw everything this time, and angrily pointed to my seat “He sits here.” With that said, the flight attendant finally let me use the first class bathroom.
It took me a while to accept what happened. I remember fuming in my seat, wanting an apology from the flight attendant. Once the initial rush of anger passed I tried to justify what happened. Maybe my age had something to do with it? This proved to be a faulty justification since teenagers have parents who could have possibly paid for their ticket. My dress? I remember that the weather was warm at the time so I know I wasn’t wearing a hoodie. I was dressed casually but there was no afro, low-hanging pants, excessive jewellery or metal gilded teeth in sight. There was no valid reason for this flight attendant to assume I was a delinquent sneaking in from coach to use the first class bathroom. She didn’t even ask me if I was in first class or ask me to present my boarding pass. She didn’t say a word to me. She just blocked my path and pointed to where she thought I belonged. The fact that I COULD be in first class didn’t even register in her mind.
Needless to say, by the time I moved back to Canada at age fifteen, I wasn’t a blissfully ignorant person anymore. I was embittered, injected with righteous indignation. Although I am still committed to exploring and denouncing racism, I know that this period was one where it dominated my life in an unhealthy way. I wasn’t just aware of how the world worked, I saw it as a poisoned entity. There were times in the years ahead where I genuinely saw racism where it didn’t exist. However, I think this stage is a natural one for anyone who was taught by his insitutions that racism is long gone, and then gets kicked in the teeth by reality.
By the time I entered the University of Ottawa, I still had more to learn. I was followed while shopping for the first time while in a SAQ in Hull, Quebec. A white friend and I entered the store, and an employee rushed over after a few minutes to ask if I needed help. I had my hands on a bottle of Appleton and advised her that I was fine. As I waited for my friend to make his selection I noticed the employee leaning on a shelf near to me, keeping her eyes trained on me while ignoring my friend. Although I was well aware of racism, this was a specific type of profiling I had either never experienced or never noticed.
There are plenty of minorities that will often argue that a racist incident, or a form of racism, must be a fabrication because they’ve never experienced it themselves. I never denied that black people could be watched more intensely than whites when they shop, but I somehow thought Canada was immune to such idiocy. Most of the time I saw it in entertainment or heard about it, the employees made some attempt to be subtle. I thought that maybe she was watching me because I had a bag on, which could be used to conceal items, but my white friend had a bag as well. Maybe some part of me wanted to believe she was just admiring me for my good looks.
I went to SAQ for a second time years later. My friends and I were travelling through the area and decided to stop in. While they were mainly focused on cheaper alcohol, I was eager to see if my first experience with SAQ was an isolated one. Lo and behold, I see an employee on the other end of the store move to a wall that gave him a good view of the entire hard liquor section. He folds his arms and leans back as he watches me move down my desired aisle. Two of my friends were in another section of the store and the employee ignored them. A group of at least four white girls walked in a few minutes after us, and they were also ignored.
There was no bag on my back this time, so it wasn’t like I could shove a 40 ounce bottle of liquor down my pants and try to walk out. I don’t believe in God, but I can’t help but feel like some force conspired to give me the perfect circumstances to test out SAQ’s racism. I say SAQ’s racism because “watch black people when they shop” appears to legimitately be a company policy. Two different employees, years apart, adopted the same protocol. Either they support the racist ideas that fuel that policy or they disagree but feel the need to just follow orders like the Nazis did. As soon as I left SAQ that day I knew I would never step foot in one again.
I remember watching Raoul Peck’s I Am Not Your Negro, and hearing a modicum of hope from James Baldwin when he says (don’t remember the exact phrasing) “I must have optimism because I am still alive.”
Believe it or not, there are many people out there who have and continue to be experience far worse racism than I have. There are unarmed men shot dead by cops or wannabe vigilantes, whose deaths are justified due to their status as dangerous “thugs”. The concept of arresting someone without killing them seems to disappear when black people are in question. “So what if two cops were lying on top of him before he was shot? He was a thug anyway.”
Society has a conscience, but its conscience has a blindspot. I have my own obstacles and experiences that bombard me with the truth about our utopic post-racial world. They exist, and no amount of willful ignorance or right-wing slander will change that. They impact me, but they don’t kill me. I’m alive, and going strong.
As a child, most of the music I listened to was whatever my parents were listening to. I heard the pop and rap on the radio, but also older R&B and reggae. When I was thirteen, I started listening to music independently, getting into the alternative rock that was popular in England (my home at the time). As I grow older, I continuously seek out older music of many genres, wanting to diversify my tastes.
I first heard about Talib Kweli Greene (known professionally as Talib Kweli) when I was doing my undergraduate degree at the University of Ottawa. I forget the context for his name being brought up, but I believe he may have been doing a show somewhere in the city. Years later, when I joined Twitter, I was randomly motivated to find his account. To this day, I have not listened to his music. I will, but this post isn’t about his artistry. Anyone who follows Kweli knows he isn’t afraid to engage anyone who tweets to him or about him. Some of these tweets come from people criticizing his career or music for one reason or another, but a lot of the ones I’ve seen are people who accuse him of being racist.
As I’ve discussed before, “colour-blind racism” is the modern racism. It is a naive mindset that racism, both instutional and individual, is dead now except for those pesky people wearing white hoods. It treats any mention of race as being racist, while also defending comments, mindsets and behaviours that rely on racist assumptions. People will say they don’t see colour, and then argue that black people would get killed by cops less if they just obeyed the law. People will say they don’t see colour, but then refuse to date anyone whose skin doesn’t match their own. People will say they don’t see colour, but then assume a black person with a good job isn’t qualified for it.
Racists are drawn to Kweli like moths to the flame. There is a sort of vicious cycle at work, where someone attempts to call Talib out for perceived racism, e.g. Talib’s declarations of being proudly black or his previous responses to another racist. Then once Talib dismantles this racist’s arguments, another jumps in to attack him because he dared to discuss race. Such is the hypocrisy of the colour-blind racist. While they have their own racist assumptions and beliefs, they are quick to throw out the word racist for those who call them out on it. “I’m not racist, you politically correct social justice warriors, (other right wing buzzwords) race-baiters are the real racists. I just think I should be able to say I don’t want more black people in my neighborhood without libtards attacking me. Black people are violent after all! That’s not racist, I have black friends.”
I have sometimes wondered why Kweli bothers to respond to these people, and some tweets from fans have also expressed the same question. Some of the haters accused Kweli of doing nothing but tweeting all day, but a look at his touring and musical output shows he is a productive artist. He handles time well, but I guess I still wondered why he bothers. Then I read Kweli’s own answer to the question, and it all made sense.
People are always quick to label racist online comments as the work of “trolls”, people who write inflammatory comments and derive enjoyment from the uproar they produce. The word “troll” implies that the poster doesn’t actually believe what they wrote, they are just saying it to see how people react. This kind of mindset, where we just ignore online racists, is downright irresponsible in this day and age. As Kweli points out, the alt-right is an entity that was birthed online. Real people reside behind the alt-right sites and comments that have proliferated online. These people have jobs, families and the ability to vote. They got Trump elected, with their own votes and their ability to spread misinformation that reinvigorated the resentment of minorities that many people in America harbour. Kweli combats racism through campaigns and events and he knows “twitter fingers” may not be for everyone, but it is one of the tools he employs to combat the ignorance that is stoked by this new climate of right wing backlash.
The people who decide to accuse Kweli of racism demonstrate one racist assumption after another, and a straw-man understanding of concepts like white privilege. User @adamant919 had the audacity to use the term “black privilege” to describe black people’s supposed natural gifts and our “handouts” with programs like affirmative action, which actually benefit white women more and don’t lead to unqualified applicants getting selected for jobs. Funny enough, the user appears to have deleted his account since. This isn’t the first user that has deleted his account following an encounter with Kweli and it gives me some hope that some people might realize the error of their ways. However, someone can delete their account out of a sense of embarrassment, without actually reflecting on their views.
This Slate article offers an interesting case study of the infamous Hunger Games (2012) racist backlash, where supposed fans were upset that the character Rue was played by a black girl, even though Rue is described as having dark brown skin in the book. One fan began collecting these racist tweets, such as “Rue being black ruined the movie” and created a tumblr account to showcase them. This article follows up on this tumblr account, reaching out to some of the twitter users to get their thoughts.
The user who wrote this tweet argued that she didn’t mean to be racist. She was just surprised that Rue was black since Rue was supposed to remind Katniss (the white, main character) of her sister. Firstly, “remind her of” doesn’t always mean “look like”. If she was truly “colour-blind” then Rue’s skin colour shouldn’t have even registered with her. Aside from the terrible excuse offered by the twitter user, the author brings up a point that a lot of people like to use for defending racists online: “This kind of drive-by scapegoating does not seem conducive to genuine reflection (and it definitely doesn’t encourage reflection in the individuals it scapegoats). It allows us to point the finger at other, younger, relatively powerless people, rather than consider the ways in which we’re implicated in a problem that is much, much larger than a few misguided teenagers on Twitter.”
I have heard people say the same thing to Kweli about his Twitter comments, and it usually comes across as very disengenious. Some of the users from the Hunger Games example may be teenagers, but some of them are grown men and women. The same goes for the alt-right. People who throw out the “don’t shame people” argument out act as if there are no attempts made to examine racism on a much larger scale. There is plenty of information online, in classes, on tv that sheds light on the much larger problem of institutional racism. People choose to ignore these sources. People choose ignorance. They reject enlightenment as left wing propaganda, the work of libtards or social justice warriors. People surround themselves with friends and sources who share the same views and refuse to challenge any of their assumptions about the world. How exactly should their racist comments be dealt with? Conservatives love to throw out the argument of free speech to defend bigotry and no one is saying they don’t have the right to make such comments. My question is: If someone is willing to go online and criticize someone’s skin colour or attack a rapper for his liberal beliefs, why are we discouraged from exercising our free speech and shining the spotlight back on them?
As Kweli says, if someone is already racist “when I respond to them, it doesn’t matter what facts I give or how much sense I make. They’re going to be who they are.” Being kinder to the racists won’t make them more prone to ‘reflection.” The real purpose behind responding is to avoid having your message become silenced. There were probably millions of people, viewing one racist comment after another from the alt-right and thinking that all those comments wouldn’t have any impact on their lives. They stayed silent, and let misinformation and racist rhetoric fill the void. They may as well have packed Trump’s things and moved them into the White House for him.
Note: Spoilers Ahead
After much delay, I finally got around to seeing a film I’ve heard nothing but good things about. I must say, the film lives up to the hype for the most part. Since the film was released a while ago I didn’t really feel like doing a review of it, which is why I want to sum up my thoughts on the film itself and move on to the interesting questions/issues it raised.
Firstly, the performances are all amazing. The only other film I have seen Daniel Kaluuya in in Sicario, and he was alright in that. The role was smaller and didn’t allow him to demonstrate the range we see in Get Out. It looks like things are looking up for Kaluuya since he also has a role in 2018’s Black Panther.
The Armitages, the family that Chris is expecting to join, are all outstanding. Caleb Landry Jones was particularly interesting as Jeremy, Chris’s prospective brother-in law. Keith Stanfield, probably best known as Darius on Atlanta, isn’t in the film that much but stole the spotlight when he was present.
Get Out works well as a comedy when it is intended to be comedic, as expected from Jordan Peele. However, it is also masterful as a horror film. The horror isn’t the type you would expect from a franchise like The Conjuring. There are no jump scares to be found. Instead, Peele forces an air of unease upon us that permeates most of the film. I was reminded of an episode of The Twilight Zone, where its strength lies in its ability to unsettle you and get your mind and heart racing. More importantly, it also gets you thinking.
Peele has described Get Out as a “very personal” story“. A friend at work pointed out that Peele has a white wife, and it is very easy to see Get Out as a satirical, cathartic reenactment of encounters with his wife’s own family. I forget the exact wording, but I remember a tweet that said Get Out isn’t about ‘hang that nigger’ racism, it’s about ‘I’m not racist because I have black friends and voted for Obama’ racism. I think that tweet is a perfect distillation of what Get Out offers.
The Armitages’ are a rich, white family who are openly welcoming to Chris when they meet him. The dad is quick to mention he voted for Obama and that Obama was the best president in his time. With this statement, the film starts to delve more into the issue of the fetishization of the black body. Jeremy is the one to bring up the idea that black people’s genetics make them superior athletes, expressing his own quiet disdain and envy at this fact. This stereotype is also brought up by the extended family, and the comments all bring back memories of comments I’ve head all through my life as well. I was recently involved in a Twitter conversation where @adamant919 had the audacity to call our supposed natural gifts “black privilege”. Funny enough, it looks like the user has since deleted his account.
This fetishization reduces the black body to something that is either a threat, a conquest or a toy. Get Out is one of the first films in a while that generally surprised me with a third act reveal. Initially I thought that Chris would simply be brainwashed into submission, becoming another Andre Hayworth via Missy Armitage’s hypnosis. It was genuinely chilling to hear the breakdown of the surgery that would be performed to turn the black body into a vehicle for someone else, reducing Chris to a passenger within his own body. The Armitages’s could easily do the same process with white bodies, but it is clear that they are appealing to a desire specifically for black ones. In Chris’s case, Jim Hudson only wants his eyes so that he can capture the kinds of pictures he envies Chris for. However, the groundskeeper (Walter), is being controlled by Rose’s grandfather. Walter’s role on the estate becomes more chilling when we realize it is an old white man reveling in what his new body can do. The infamous Walter sprint, which grandpa calls his “exercise”, becomes a man testing out stereotypes for himself.
Peele is currently being considered to direct The DC Extended Universe’s Flash film and I was hesitant when I heard this, since the role seems far removed from his skillset. After seeing Get Out and how it manages to combine satire, horror and comedy, I am sure Peele can find a way to handle any project that comes his way.
Over the weekend my stepdad shared this video during a family gathering. While most of the family was congregating in the living room, my mom, my aunt and I snuck away to view this prank performed by Nephew Tommy of the Steve Harvey Radio Show. My mom has been a big Steve Harvey fan for years now, and is not one to get offended easily. Yet she didn’t laugh once during this video.
For those who can’t watch, Tommy informs this man that his wife was accidentally impregnated with his sperm by his fertility clinic. After getting over the brief of confidentiality by the clinic, the caller doesn’t seem that worried that his wife will be having someone else’s baby. What he focuses on is the fact that the baby will be black.
Now, I can imagine people throwing out words like “colour-blind”, “race card” or “race-baiting”. The people who throw out these words have a hard time grasping the concept of noticing race, and not being racist. Their go to defence for racism is to argue that they don’t even see colour, and those that do are the real racists. They say that the people always talking about race are the people dividing us all. In that case, this man fits the description. Tommy repeatedly says that he is the “baby daddy”, which prompts the man to ask if Tommy is black . That is not something a colour-blind person would say. For the rest of his call, this caller is only worried that the baby will be black. “Am I going to have a black baby?” If he was colour-blind, this wouldn’t matter either. If he’s colour-blind, his only concern should have been that the baby is someone else’s.
I initially laughed at his outcry, while my aunt and mom both looked taken aback by my amusement. Maybe it was a nervous reaction on my part, since I was so taken aback by how disgusted this man was with the idea that he could end up having a black baby. In retrospect, the video isn’t funny. It reveals how people can embrace racism and use the excuse that they consume black entertainment to backpedal out of their own racism. Once the caller realizes it is a recorded prank call he quickly informs Tommy that he listens to the show everyday. I’m surprised he didn’t say that he has black friends. Like my mom said, this man accepts us for entertainment but doesn’t seem to want blackness anywhere near his home.
Of course, people will be quick to defend him. Probably because they would react the same way. My question to these people is: Can you really say you’re “colour-blind” if you would react this way?
“I used to think that maybe I’d let my anger serve as an engine. But I’ve since discovered that my anger over each new racist incident is now rivaled and augmented by the anger I feel when asked to explain, once more, why black people shouldn’t be brutalized, insulted, and killed. If you’re a person of color, the racism beat is also a professional commitment to defending your right and the right of people like you to be treated with consideration to an audience filled with readers champing at the bit to call you nothing but a nigger playing the race card.” Cord Jefferson- The Racism Beat
I originally read this article about a year ago, at a time when I was starting to publicly share my thoughts on race more frequently, whether through YouTube or this blog. Many of my videos concerned the overlap between film and race, two of my greatest interests. However, many discussed issues such as racial profiling. I remember hearing about the verdict for the Trayvon Martin case back in 2013. Although I knew about notorious incidents of police brutality against blacks, such as Rodney King, I was shielded from this particular manifestation of racism for some reason. I experienced racial profiling numerous times growing up, such as always being asked “do you live here” when I walked around the courtyard of my apartment building in London, England. Or when a flight attendant insisted I use the bathroom in coach, instead of the first class one that I had the right to use since I was sitting in first class. I’ve also experienced the more subtle forms of racism e.g. “you’re smart for a black guy”, “you speak so well” etc.
Hearing that a neighbourhood watchmen took it upon himself to kill a teenager, because he “looked suspicious” infuriated me since I knew that teenager could have been me. I have had people cross the street or pull their loved ones closer seeing a 6’4, threatening black man come their way. I always wear hoodies, especially when it is cold or raining (like it was on the night Martin died).
Back in 2013, it was a shock to see Zimmerman acquitted. I thought he would be charged for murder, or maybe manslaughter as a worst case scenario. There were numerous comments defending him online: Martin was a thug, all these people talking about racial profiling are “race-baiters”. Like the Trump election, I wanted to believe that these people must be a loud minority.
They weren’t a loud minority. They were the voices of resentful, racist whites who would say anything to justify the death of a black person. They would say that the liberal media shouldn’t vilify the cops. They would say we need to wait for the facts of the case. Then these people would donate $500,000 to officer Darren Wilson before the trail began. There is no desire to let the trial speak for itself. People’s minds were made up once they saw who got shot, and who shot them.
The shooting of unarmed black men doesn’t faze me as much as it used to. It’s not because I don’t care, it’s because I’m used to it now. I’m used to the police testimonies, the online comments saying that black people would be better off if they “just obeyed the law” and the host of other excuses that rely on racist assumptions.
A part of me worries I could be on the list someday. Maybe I am walking down the street in an area that is deemed too nice for me, and someone reports me for my presence. Maybe I am driving a car that is too expensive to be mine. Maybe I threaten a cop’s ego by showing him too much attitude, maybe I reach for my wallet and end up dead. What then? I become a thug, another black guy that just couldn’t follow orders.
The fact that I am educated would probably be ignored by a lot of people. They would point to pictures on Facebook where I am dressed in hoodies, drinking, throwing up “gang signs”. Maybe they would bring up conflicts I had with previous landlords, one of them a divorced bylaw officer who was on a power trip (Abdulkadar Mohamed “Mo” Dualeh): He would say I was a troublemaker, aggressive, confrontational. I can be whatever they need me to be. People will lose track of the fact that the trial isn’t to determine if I was a saint; it is to determine if the cop had the right to shoot me at a specific moment and time. The gofundme money would start pouring in for my killer, giving him more money than he could ever hope to make as a cop. My death would be unfortunate, but not a crime. Some will be outraged. They will be called “race-baiters,” “social justice warriors”, or whatever new terms people come up with by then.
I will leave my family behind. They will be confused and angry, but that won’t matter. They’ll be powerless. The cop might lose his job but he’ll have enough money to buy a new house and start a new life, just like Darren Wilson did.
I have found myself spending more time on Facebook since Trump’s election. Not to peruse selfies, but to see what all my “friends” are saying about the election. These “friends” could be someone I met just once, a former classmate or coworker, or someone I considered a close friend. With each status I come across I get more insight into how some of them really think. I have seen plenty that I like, and have also been disappointed from some of the truths these friends bring to the surface. Everyone has the right to free speech, so I am not judging them for making their voice heard. As a matter of fact, I like to have people’s thoughts on such a topic out in the open. I can now exercise my free speech to challenge some of the views presented.
There are certain words that appear repeatedly from Trump supporters; “political correctness”, “race baiters”, “identity politics”, “social justice warriors (sjws)”. I collectively like to refer to these as the right-wing buzzwords. People love to say that they don’t like pigeonholing themselves as right or left wing, or that they don’t identify with the spectrum at all. They are a unique snowflake who isn’t like the rest of the sheep they look down on. This argument parallels the infamous “race is a social construct” argument. The fact that something is socially constructed does not mean its impact can be ignored or simply dismissed. Our use of hours and minutes to plan our day is a social construct that has developed over centuries, and the political spectrum is the same. Are you pro-life or pro-choice? Are you against social security or not? Are you a gun-control advocate or not? The answers to these questions will place you somewhere on the spectrum. The totality of your views about different political issues will see you land somewhere; left, right, center-right, center-left etc.
Think that’s deterministic, rigid, stupid? Ok, then let me throw off another social construct. I no longer recognize myself as a black man. So a girl who only dates white guys will still be interested right? Cops who are more suspicious of black people will no longer feel the need to pull me over or frisk me, right?
The funny thing about people who reject labels such as “right-wing” is that they often do not hesitate to criticize “liberals”. In their own minds, they are just following common sense. It is the other side that is stuck in their ways and is blind to reason. I feel the same way sometimes. Trump was able to capitalize on a climate where people felt like their free speech was stifled. They wanted to say racist things without being labelled as racist. They wanted to say sexist things without “feminazis” labeling them as sexist or misogynist. These oppressed people then see a man who unapologetically calls Hispanics rapists, blacks lazy and calls to ban Muslims from the US. Their hero was born. No more of this “political correctness” or “race-baiting” that held them back.
The term political correctness originated in the 1980s, and was a term developed by conservatives to criticize policies that they viewed as being too accommodating for minorities. These policies included avoiding the use of certain words to describe minority groups and policies such as affirmative action are often lumped into this category too. Realize that the term was developed by conservatives. Now there are times that there may be genuine cases of people being too sensitive about a issue. However, I find that brandishing the term “political correctness” often allows people to defend bigotry. I have heard people rant about their empathy for minorities, but complain about sjws or race-baiters saying “everything” is racist. “Everything” is obviously a blanket term. It could include Madonna referring to her son as “dis nigga” or it could refer to Trump saying Mexico “doesn’t send its best“. Maybe prying would reveal the Trump example, or maybe someone would throw out something more harmless in order to avoid a debate.
The right-wing buzzwords have become scarlet letters that no one wants to wear. Even people who may genuinely hold some enlightened views about minorities reject the terms and go out of their way not to be misconstrued as “politically correct”. Sometimes it isn’t about being pc or not, it is about being racist or not, about having empathy or not.
Tucker Max, an author and businessman who I follow, started a new project called The Mating Grounds. It was a podcast that helped to promote an upcoming book, and was designed to give men actionable dating advice that was devoid of the sociopathy offered by pick-up artists. One podcast in particular caught my attention and served as a great example of someone showing empathy, but also being wary of being labelled a sjw.
One caller asked for advice on dealing with a racist area (Arizona), where he was repeatedly rebuffed due to his race. Max was quick to advise that Arizona is one of America’s most racist states, demonstrating that he doesn’t embrace the right-wing narrative of a “post-racial” society. He acknowledges the historical and present racism in Arizona. Max was also quick to say that he wasn’t a “sjw” by any means.This fear of the right-wing buzzwords sends us all back to high school; we want to be one of the cool kids. We don’t want to be caught socializing with the losers, the pc horde and those sjws.
This brings up another feature of the right-wing buzzwords, and many political terms. They are all relative. Your own position dictates what you view as being liberal or conservative. There are many people that would condemn Max as a sjw or race-baiter for his comments about Arizona. Additionally, the podcast criticizes rape culture, and stresses the importance of empathy and female choice in dating. There are plenty of people who would consider that “feminazi propaganda” or the work of a “white knight”.
You can call me politically-correct, a sjw or as white knight. I am not ashamed of my views. My views mean more to me now more than ever, especially since people with clashing ones decided to elect Donald Trump as president.